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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26016547">One Nation Under Dog</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witty_Clever_Username/pseuds/Witty_Clever_Username'>Witty_Clever_Username</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Pre-Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Runaway Sirius Black</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:26:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,682</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26016547</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witty_Clever_Username/pseuds/Witty_Clever_Username</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius didn't need to look back, didn't need to glance at the room beyond the open window he'd jumped out of. Prongs had told him once that a house was not a home, and that place was never his home, they were never his family.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>One Nation Under Dog</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>‘Stepped out of the line<br/>
Like a sheep runs from the herd<br/>
Marching out of time<br/>
To my own beat now'</p><p> </p><p>He was quickly packing a bag with whatever shit he could grab, important shit only. Did he even have important shit? A few records from Andy, some pictures of his mates, maybe a few things Reg gave him over the years.</p><p>Really there wasn't enough time to look, whatever he left here was sure to be burnt along with his photo on the family tree, but it didn't matter anyways. All this shit was replaceable, and utterly tainted by it's presence in this fucking hell hole.</p><p>He was supposed to be preparing for the ceremony which would supposedly redeem him in the eyes of his godforsaken family. All his Gryffindor ways, all his 'blood traitor' friends and his 'mud blood' sympathizing, it would all be instantly forgiven tonight at this ceremony. He was going to be forced to swear his allegiance towards Voldemort and be forever marked.</p><p>That's why he had to go, right fucking now. It wasn't even a hard choice, he'd been carving his own path since before he could speak, forever the reject of the Black family. He had fought them on every rule, every belief and now they simply expected him to put it all aside and rejoin the team. It was horribly ridiculous, his mother's whole bloody speech was completely ridiculous, he barely had listened but still caught the gist of it: Join Voldemort, take the dark mark and resume your role as the rightful heir to the most shitty and bigoted house of Black or suffer the consequences. Fuck the consequences he’d already received enough consequences earlier, fuck them. </p><p>He had a family, he crafted a family for himself out of sheer will. The Marauders were his family since the day he was sorted into Gryffindor. Prongs, Moony and Wormtail showed him more compassion and love than this bloody family ever did. He certainly didn't need these fuckwads.</p><p>His bag hastily packed he was out. He didn't need to look back, didn't need to glance at the room beyond the open window he'd jumped out of. Prongs had told him once that a house was not a home, and that place was never his home, they were never his family.</p><p>He probably looked quite the sight running through the streets with a bag clasped in his mouth, paws moving faster than they had ever carried him before. He couldn't risk them seeing him and Padfoot could pass by virtually unseen in the night. He was invisible to them as a dog, just another street mongrel they could stare straight at him and have no clue they were staring into their son's eyes.</p><p>Of course that could apply to most days, they have never seen him. To them he was always just a vision of what they wanted him to be, stuffed into a box to which he'd never fit. Dammed for everything he believed, dammed for having some fucking original thoughts. It wasn’t what Black’s did, Black’s listened to rules, followed age old traditions and hated whom ever they were told to hate. From this moment on wards however he was no longer a Black, there would be no going back and he could not fathom a single reason to ever go back.</p><p>He was far enough away now to risk shifting out of his animagus form. Though Padfoot would carry him further and faster his paws were beginning to ache and blister from the asphalt, still hot from the sweltering summers day. His shoes would need to carry him now.</p><p>Speed was no longer a priority any ways, speed requires a goal, be it running away or running to. Either way with the adrenaline rapidly depleting from his body he was stuck with the sudden stark reality of what has just occurred. He’s officially a stray, lost in muggle London with no end game to speak of.</p><p>Time for planning wasn’t provided, had he planned this out he’d of been struck by an unforgivable or two by now. His Mothers wand would have been striking him with a too carefully practiced Imperius Curse and he’d be taking the dark mark. Fuck that, he didn’t regret this, nothing about what he left behind would be missed.</p><p>Still a goal was required, even if that goal was begging on the streets until September rolled around. That poses risks though, should they find him he’d surely be brought back and whipped back into the box he so desperately escaped. He needed some place safe, somewhere that offered protection.</p><p>James. It should have been obvious from the start, The Potters were the safest people he knew. His previous family wouldn’t dare step foot on The Potters door, where as he’d be welcomed, embraced even. His unique mind wasn’t cause for beating and belittlement at the Potters, but met was praise and encouragement. If there was any place he could turn up at a moments notice it was there.</p><p>He was about to plan on exactly how he was going to make his way from muggle London to the Potters mansion when a large bus was suddenly screeching to a halt behind him. It stopped mere inches from knocking him onto his ass, which would be a shame having made all this effort to then be crushed by some muggle bus.</p><p>Only that’s not a muggle bus, it’s different, unique and the air of magic emanating from it is unmistakable. The Night Bus, he’d heard of it before and nearly being run over by it had not put the stereotypes to rest. His mothers voice rang out in his mind as he climbed aboard and gave the driver his destination, ‘A most undignified way to travel, only suitable for tramps and mudbloods’ She had told him, he had thought it sounded marvelous, perfectly unBlack.</p><p>He was somewhere along the trip, trying desperately to hold on to his seat when it finally hit him. He had done it, he was free. No more curses, no more beatings, no more screaming. The feeling of elation flowing through his blood stream was almost enough to push down the nausea caused by the bus’ sudden stops.</p><p>He had one bag filled with god knows what, a packet of cigarettes and the clothes on his back. That was it, that is now all he owns in this world, but it didn’t matter because for the first time in his life he owns something more precious than all his parents wealth, he finally owns his life.</p><p>He’d read of freedom, heard others speak of it, but he’d never known it before now. His life had been planned from before his conception, it had never truly been his before. He was free now, free to do as he pleases, free to fight for what he believes in, free to love as he wishes.</p><p>Free to love as he wishes. It’s a dream he’s had for so long, no blood purity based relations, no arranged marriages to distant cousins. His dreams were filled with tawny hair and amber eyes, soft spoken words and mischievous smirks. It had seemed just that, a dream, one which he’d not dared to fathom under the watchful thumb of the House of Black.</p><p>The grin covering his face as he closed his eyes probably looked out of place next to his rapidly swelling lip. His mind drifted off to thoughts of freedom and a smile with a scar just grazing the owners lips. </p><p>The bus’ abrupt stop would be enough to wake someone hit with a stupefy charm, let alone a lightly snoozing teenager. The voice ringing out ‘Potter Manor’ is a welcome sound to his exhausted mind. Tonight had yes been freeing, but exhaustion was starting to take hold and with it the jovial sense he was feeling was drifting, now he just wanted a hot cup of tea and a warm bed.</p><p>Getting off the bus he could feel his muscles aching from his run. Moony would know the term for it, that sensation that made your muscles hurt from an abrupt rest post exercise, but now wasn’t the time. Now was the time for facing friends and the reality of what he’d just done.</p><p>His knock on the Potters front door was tentative, not that he thought they wouldn’t accept him but that it had to be rather late. He’d be waking up a sleeping family and thrusting all of his problems onto their shoulders. They’d accept him, but did that make this right? </p><p>His thoughts were starting to drift into panic for the first time since he’d made the jump out his bedroom window. This was too much to ask of them, James would never allow them to turn him away, and they just wouldn’t, they are unwavering in their kindness. He could turn away though, spare them of this burden and run into the night, live as Padfoot until school starts. Still his feet ached and his lip was starting to burn, perhaps he could just stay for the last month of summer. The Potter’s had offered it numerous times.</p><p>“Sirius?” Fleamont’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.</p><p>“Merlin Pads what happened to you?” James is suddenly pushing his way to the door, the concern etched in his voice is the first indicator he has of just how bad he must look.</p><p>“I did it James, I left them”</p><p>He’s rushed inside and fused over by the Potters, trying his best to explain to them as they tend his wounds. The fight with his mother, the demands he join the Dark Lord, his frantic run, it all comes pouring out.<br/>
The Potters to their credit try their best to keep the horror out of their voices, but fail to remove it from their expressions. It doesn’t matter though, their missing the point. He can feel himself slipping out of consciousness, but they need to know.</p><p>“I did it, I’m free. They can’t control me anymore, I’m free”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title and lyrics are Green Day -Minority, which in my defense is pre-sell out.</p><p>oh, my <a href="https://writing-wrongs-and-singing-songs.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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